


Quarry

by kerithwyn



Series: Into a Bar [4]
Category: Fringe, Once Upon a Time (TV), Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Community: intoabar, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2549309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some jobs are trickier than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quarry

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Into a Bar challenge. -Emma Swan walks into a bar and meets...Vic! Unsurprisingly, there was a detour.

Most of Emma’s jobs came from bond agencies and private recovery firms, tracking down runaway bail jumpers and stolen items. Criminals, Emma had learned, were essentially creatures of habit, and predictable to boot. Even fugitives tended to return to familiar haunts and everyday habits. She’d found jumpers visiting their exes or at the corner bodegas where they always bought their favored brand of cigarettes. And when they tried to sell off their stolen loot, the local pawn shops were willing to work with her on item recovery. The work was painstaking and often tedious, but at least it kept her busy.

She’d seen a lot in the years since she became a recovery agent. She’d never seen an offer like this.

The note arrived on elegant stationary, lacking any distinguishing insignia. The gist was simple: a request for a meeting regarding a private bounty, including compensation for her time. Considering Emma was down to her last stale pop-tart, the latter was compelling incentive. 

There was no signature. Her mission, once she chose to accept it, was to text her acceptance to short code 74277. The reason for the cloak-and-dagger became clear with the response: a time and place for the meeting, and the image of an elegant black card. The simple design read:

  
Nina Sharp  
Chief Operating Officer  
  
  
  
---  
  
The Massive Dynamic symbol didn’t need any further identification. The company made...just about everything, as near as Emma could tell. Their “What Don’t We Do” slogan was more than propaganda; even a cursory look at the [website](http://www.massivedynamic.com/)’s listing of the corporation’s divisions and subsidiaries confirmed technology interests in every medium imaginable. A quick glance around her apartment revealed the logo stamped discreetly on her computer, her electric toothbrush, and even her toaster.

It’d be worth taking the meeting out of curiosity alone. The alert from her bank informing her that she’d already received a deposit sealed the deal.

The following evening, the doorman at the private club politely restrained his disbelief when Emma displayed the digital card, signaling for an impeccably dressed attendant to lead her toward a private booth at the back.

She parted the dark curtain to reveal an older red-haired woman dressed predominantly in black sitting at a booth, busily typing on a sleek tablet. She looked up and smiled warmly. “Ms. Swan. I’m so glad you could join me. I’m Nina Sharp.”

“How could I turn down a summons like that,” Emma said dryly, sitting down across the table. “Especially since you’ve paid for my time up front.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ms. Sharp said, equally dryly. “But your time is no less valuable than mine, so I’ll cut to the chase. There’s a young woman who’s in possession of some very delicate and experimental Massive Dynamic assets. We’d like them back.” 

Emma had never been more grateful for her knack for knowing when someone was lying. This woman wasn’t...exactly. But that definitely wasn’t the whole truth. “You could hire anyone. You’ve probably got your own legion of PIs. So why me?”

Ms. Sharp leaned back, looking pleased. “You’re quite correct. But you have a certain talent for finding those who don’t want to be found.”

She slid a photo of a young woman across the table. “Her name is Sarah Manning. Canadian national, but she’s been in the U.S. for at least the last several months. Petty grifter and con artist.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at the description. “That must be embarrassing, a street thief lifting something so important from Massive Dynamic.”

Ms. Sharp merely smiled. “She doesn’t know what she has. She doesn’t even know she has our property.” She leaned forward again, eyes intent. “Ms. Manning isn’t to be arrested, or even approached. We simply want to know where she is. Our agents can take over from there.”

Emma could feel all her hackles going up. Something about this wasn’t—

“We mean her no harm,” Nina Sharp said quickly and that, at least, Emma could tell was the truth. “As you said, it’s a sensitive subject. We simply want to assure that our assets are found and returned in good order. And of course, we’ll pay generously for your time.”

She handed over the slim electronic tablet, thinner and more compact than an iPad. The Massive Dynamic logo was stamped into a corner. “Proprietary software,” Ms. Sharp said, off-handedly. “We prefer to keep transactions within our domain.”

The tablet was open to what looked like a bail bond recovery contract...with modifications. The contract was open ended, with a weekly stipend and a final finder’s fee that made Emma blink in surprise. “You really want this girl.”

“We want her unharmed,” Ms. Sharp said, very intent. “She’s skittish, and tracking her might require a delicate touch. That’s part of why we chose you.”

“And the other part?”

Nina Sharp spread her hands like the answer was self evident. “Your proven resourcefulness.”

It was all a little too smooth, but the money was too good to turn down. Emma signed the contract, confirmed that a copy had been transmitted to her email, and blinked again to see a second email informing her that a sizable signing bonus had already been deposited to her account. “Feels like I just made a deal with the devil,” she muttered, not caring that the alleged tempter was sitting right across from her.

Nina Sharp tilted her head, smiling with all the self-assuredness of a woman who’d gotten everything she wanted. “I would be willing to add an addendum to the contract, my personal assurance that Massive Dynamic intends that Sarah is not prosecuted, but in fact compensated for the return of property. We’re willing to provide educational opportunities, living arrangements, the chance to start a new life.”

Once upon a time, Emma might have turned herself in for that kind of reward. “All that for a street thief?”

Ms. Sharp simply nodded. “We didn’t get where we are by squandering potential assets. Anything worth acquiring merits the initial investment.”

Judging by her proprietary glance, she was already considering Emma among those investments.

Regardless of her misgivings, Emma had a contract and she was determined to follow through to the best of her ability.

She read through the dossier Sharp had sent. Sarah Manning was an orphan, raised by a foster mother. She’d had a difficult adolescence, highlighted by a series of escalating petty crimes. Emma remembered her own experiences, and sympathized. But she’d run out of luck and been caught. As devastating as Neil’s betrayal had been, prison gave Emma the incentive to change her ways and start over. Sarah never had. Her cons had only gotten more dangerous, including associations with drug dealers and assorted lowlifes. 

She still didn’t like the circumstances, a massive corporation hunting one young woman. But this young woman was a thief, no different than many of the criminals Emma tracked down to face justice for their crimes.

Or maybe a little different. Sharp said Sarah didn’t know what she had. Maybe she’d picked up something intangible, like restricted information. Or microscopic, some kind of biotech or nanotechnology she’d acquired by accident. The possibilities sounded like science fiction, but Massive Dynamic had divisions openly dedicated to exploring fringe possibilities. 

The kind of thing way beyond her pay grade to question, in any case.

Emma reached out to law enforcement agencies and when that didn’t work, to certain extra-legal networks. Criminals didn’t like other criminals poaching on their territory.

Sarah had been careful, but Emma knew how to find a missing person’s weak link. In Sarah’s case, that turned out to be her literal partner in crime: Victor “Vic” Schmidt, petty drug trafficker, drifter, and all-around loser. When one of her contacts tipped her off to Vic’s arrival in the New York underground, Emma booked the first train and headed down to the city.

This part, Emma thought, was going to be easy. She dressed for the venue, tight jeans and a tighter shirt. At least her red leather jacket would blend right in. 

Emma found her target in a seedy bar, trying futilely to hustle at pool. He had a giant bruise across his face and a nasty gash across his right eyebrow held together by stitches that looked like they’d been sewn by a back-alley doctor.

His general air of desperation was keeping the other patrons away, which suited Emma just fine. She put on her best swagger and headed over. Vic’s eyes tracked avidly over her body as she approached. “I’ll play,” she said, putting a twenty down on the table.

The bill vanished between one blink and the next. “I’m Vic,” her target said, his smile aiming for charming and missing by a wide margin. “Eight-ball, lady shoots first.”

She grinned at him. “Emma. And thanks.”

She held back on the break, setting the balls drifting aimlessly around the table. Vic’s poorly hidden smirk made her want to go full-on shark—judging by the way he was eyeing her ass, she’d only have to lean across the table to distract him—but that wasn’t the game she was playing. She sank the striped 13 and deliberately missed the next shot, leaving the cue ball in a prime position for his turn.

“Lemme show you how it’s done, little lady,” Vic said with an ingratiating smile that made Emma wrap her fingers more tightly around her pool cue. Punching him wasn’t the right play either, at least not yet.

He sank two balls in quick succession, intentionally missed a shot when he obviously remembered he was supposed to be hustling her instead of showing off, and shrugged in false resignation. “Hey, you look thirsty. Buy you a drink?”

“Martini, dry. Three olives.”

Vic blinked at her precise instruction and then smirked. “Bossy. I like it. Be right back.” He hustled over to the bar, flashing the bill he’d just gotten from her. Emma wondered idly how he thought he’d pay if she won, but Vic clearly wasn’t the thinking-ahead type.

She lined up her shot while he got her drink and a cheap beer for himself, and let it fly before he had the chance to set the glasses down. She sank three balls in quick succession. Vic was visibly sweating by the time she missed her fourth shot.

His face was set with concentration when he stepped up to the table. Playtime was evidently over.

The rest of the game played out as predictably as Emma could have foretold. She let him sweat over his inevitable victory, missing her first shot at the 8 ball and letting him claim the win. Vic’s smile was entirely too smug for his narrow triumph, but he’d be riding high on his “hard-fought” win and that was exactly where Emma wanted him.

She let Vic squire her over to the bar and order a second drink without asking. Trying to get her drunk for another game, probably. But she wasn’t going to hang around that long. 

Emma took a minute sip, hiding a wince at the harsh bite of the cheap liquor. Then, before he had the chance to revolt her with an attempt at seduction, she went in for the kill. “It’s not an accident I ran into you tonight, Mr. Schmidt.”

His head came up in alarm, the picture of a prey animal ready to run at the slightest provocation. “How’d you know—”

She leaned in closer, ignoring the odors of unwashed clothing and old sweat. “I’m a bounty hunter. But it’s your lucky day, Vic. I’m not hunting you.”

“‘Course not, I ain’t out on bail,” Vic blustered, but he still looked about to bolt. 

“No, but you’re a person of interest in a number of inquiries that fall just short of arrest warrants.” Emma fished an olive out of her martini and watched Vic watch her suck it off the cocktail pick. “You’re a wanted man, Victor Schmidt.”

“Yeah?” he said weakly, and she knew she had him hooked. 

“You want to keep moving. I’m not inclined to stop you...if you trade some information. I’ll even throw in a cash bonus.”

“I’m not a rat,” Vic protested, but the greedy interest in his eyes said otherwise.

“Of course not. I’m looking for Sarah Manning,” Emma said before he had the chance to reconsider.

Vic blinked at her in confusion. “Sarah? Sarah’s gone.”

Anyone else might have assumed he was lying to protect his partner. Emma didn’t need to waste time confirming his story. She slid a Benjamin out of her pocket, letting Vic see the denomination between her fingers. “Where’d she go, Vic?”

“Probably back to Canada,” Vic said, watching her hand. “She probably got on the first train. That’s my bet.”

Again, it was the truth as he knew it...and he would’ve given it up for far less, judging by the speed with which he snatched the bill from her hand. But it was on Massive Dynamic’s dime, anyway.

As soon as the money had vanished into one of his grubby pockets, Vic seemed to have a change of heart. “Hey, what’re you after her for, anyway?”

Emma smiled at him as she slid off her stool. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

And if Sarah had gone back to Canada, it was out of her hands as well. Emma hated to admit defeat...but in this case, she felt more relieved than anything that her quarry had eluded her. Despite the loss of the final fee.

Vic stood too, frowning. “Waitasec. You can’t just—”

She turned to go but Vic lunged for her, grabbing for her arm.

Mistake. Emma swiveled, using Vic’s momentum against him, and propelled his face into the beer-soaked bar. She grabbed his ear and twisted to hold him there. “Let her go, Vic.”

His voice came out as a pathetic whine. “I just want to look out for her. I love her!”

He meant it, the sad little shmuck. But no matter what Sarah had done, she deserved better. “She’s not your problem anymore.”

And not Emma’s, either. She’d text what she knew to Nina Sharp and officially default on the rest of the contract.

Emma couldn’t help hoping that wherever Sarah was, she’d just keep on running.

**Author's Note:**

> In any universe, my answer to the clone experiment is “Nina Sharp did it.” 
> 
> <http://www.usshortcodes.com/> says that text short code 74277 (Sharp) is currently available. In this universe.


End file.
